She be as fresh as a bud.
He is fortunate who is blessed with a bride
As virgin as a bud, err it be blown.
He is fortunate who is blessed with a wife
As chaste as a rose, ever in bloom.
18.06.2008
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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Related quotes
Sacred And Eternal
I am fortunate to be a poet with words periodical
I am fortunate to write poems sacred and eternal.
I am fortunate to see the world in new look
I am fortunate to be in poetic imagination
With evergreen colors sacred and eternal.
I am fortunate to be a part and parcel of the world
That is yours and only yours
And you are for all sacred and eternal.
poem by Gajanan Mishra
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Fortunate Son
Some folks are born made to wave the flag
Ooh, they're red, white, and blue
And when the band plays hail to the chief
Ooh, they point the cannon at you, Lord
It ain't me
It ain't me
I ain't no senator's son, son, son
It ain't me
It ain't me
I ain't no fortunate one, no
Some folks are born silver spoon in hand
Lord, don't they help themselves now
And when the tax man comes to the door
Lord, the house looks like a rummage sale, yes
It ain't me
It ain't me
I ain't no millionaire's son, son, son
It ain't me
It ain't me
I ain't no fortunate one, no, no
Some folks inherit star-spangled eyes
Ooh, they send you down to war
And when you ask 'em how much should we give
Ooh, they only answer more, more, more, more
It ain't me
It ain't me
I ain't no military son, son, son
It ain't me
It ain't me
I ain't no fortunate one
It ain't me
It ain't me
I ain't no fortunate one, one, one
It ain't me
It ain't me
I ain't no fortunate son, son, son
song performed by by Bob Seger
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Fortunate Son
Some folks are born
Made to wave that flag
Ooh that red, white 'n blue
And when they play
'Hail to the Cheif'
Ooh they point the cannon at you, lord
It ain't me, it ain't me
I ain't no fortunate son
It ain't me, it ain't me
I ain't no fortunate one, no
Some folks are born
Silver spoon in hand
Lord don't they help themselves?
And when the taxman
Knocks on their door
Ooh the house looks like a rummage sale, yeah
It ain't me, it ain't me
I ain't no fortunate son
It ain't me, it ain't me
I ain't no millionaires son, no, no
Some folks are born
Starspangled eyes
Ooh they send you out to war
And when Australia asks
'How much do we get?'
Ooh they just ask for more and more and more and more and more and...
It ain't me, it ain't me
I ain't no millionaires son, no
It ain't me, it ain't me
I ain't no fortunate one, one, one
It ain't me, it ain't me
I ain't no CIA son, no
It ain't me, it ain't me
I ain't no fortunate son, son, son
song performed by by Pearl Jam
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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We're very blessed, just very fortunate to have the things we have.
quote by Tim McGraw
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Trinity Of Carnatic Music 2-Muthuswamy Dhikshitar
Blessed Yogi when blessed
Blessed was your cognizant mastery
To be blessed from the sacred depths
Devi Ganga to treasure you with Rama-Veena
Blessed later when the Lord of Tiruttani
Blessed was 'you' with your vibhakti kritis
To be blessed from the heavenly treasury
'GuruGuha' to treasure you in bouffant compendium
Blessed your sanskrit lexicon when blessed
Blessed Navavarna kritis blossomed in stacks
To be blessed then planetary nine in seven talas
Extended seventy two Kartas issuing varieties aplenty
Blessed your peripatetic journey when blessed
Blessed Amrithavarshini pattered driving drought
To be blessed you then to sing to Madurai Meenakshi
'Meenalochani Pasamochani'to board you of Her abode
Blessed scholar with blessed knowledge
Blessed verbarian, blessed musician
To be blessed is we O'Guru, by your soul
Devis and deities from your resort of music
poem by Indira Renganathan
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Fortunate Son
Some folks are born made to wave the flag
Ooh, theyre red, white and blue
And when the band plays hail to the chief
They point the cannon right at you
It aint me, it aint me
I aint no senators son
It aint me, it aint me
I aint no fortunate son
Some folks are born silver spoon in hand
Lord they dont help themselves
But when the taxman comes to the door
Lord, the house looks like a rummage sale
It aint me, it aint me
I aint no millionaires son
It aint me, it aint me
I aint no fortunate son
Some folks inherit star spangled eyes
Ooh, they send you down to war
And when you ask them how much should we give ?
They only answer more! more! more!
It aint me, it aint me
I aint no militarys son
It aint me, it aint me
I aint no fortunate son
It aint me, it aint me
I aint no fortunate one, no no
It aint me, it aint me
I aint no fortunate son
song performed by by Bruce Springsteen
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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To word properly
Don’t say:
You are fortunate to have such a nice wife.
It means:
You aren’t worth having such a nice wife.
Instead, say:
You have got such a nice wife to suit you well.
30.04.2008
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Good Lord Blessed Me
Through my life many strange things
have happened to me.
From a lonely life I thought I would lead
the good Lord blessed me
with a wonderful wife.
He blessed me with friends
all around the world,
some of which I may never see.
From what I thought
might be a sad and lonely life
the good Lord blessed me
with thing I could only dream of.
From sadness he delivered me to my wife.
From loneliness he gave to me friends
far across the sea.
He enriched my life with treasures
only some can dream of.
The treasures were not of money,
but love of a wonderful kind.
He let me meet people
of every race, colour and creed.
Delivered me from evils
for which I may have fallen.
For the hurt the good Lord blessed me
with a helping hand
so that I can help others
when and if I can.
He blessed me with the written word
so I can write of comfort and joy.
Yes, the good Lord blessed me
with all these wonderful things.
14 August 2008
poem by David Harris
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Fortunate Son
Some folks are born made to wave the flag,
Ooh, theyre red, white and blue.
And when the band plays hail to the chief,
Ooh, they point the cannon at you, lord,
It aint me, it aint me, I aint no senators son, son.
It aint me, it aint me; I aint no fortunate one, no,
Yeah!
Some folks are born silver spoon in hand,
Lord, dont they help themselves, oh.
But when the taxman comes to the door,
Lord, the house looks like a rummage sale, yes,
It aint me, it aint me, I aint no millionaires son, no.
It aint me, it aint me; I aint no fortunate one, no.
Some folks inherit star spangled eyes,
Ooh, they send you down to war, lord,
And when you ask them, how much should we give?
Ooh, they only answer more! more! more! yoh,
It aint me, it aint me, I aint no military son, son.
It aint me, it aint me; I aint no fortunate one, one.
It aint me, it aint me, I aint no fortunate one, no no no,
It aint me, it aint me, I aint no fortunate son, no no no,
song performed by by Creedence Clearwater Revival
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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If that many people recognize how hard I go every night and what I put into my game, to make myself and my team better, it means a lot to mean. I'm fortunate; I'm blessed to be in the situation that I'm in right now.
quote by Allen Iverson
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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We are fortunate to live an area that is blessed with outstanding schools and educators. We are proud of the quality of education that they provide to local students.
quote by Kenny Marchant
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The South Wind: A Fisherman's Blessing
O blessed drums of Aldershot!
O blessed South-west train!
O blessed, blessed Speaker's clock,
All prophesying rain!
O blessed yaffil, laughing loud!
O blessed falling glass!
O blessed fan of cold gray cloud!
O blessed smelling grass!
O bless'd South wind that toots his horn
Through every hole and crack!
I'm off at eight to-morrow morn,
To bring
such
fishes back!
Eversley, April 1, 1856.
poem by Charles Kingsley
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How Blessed Am I
How blessed am I for being born
Of parents good and God-fearing!
How blessed am I for siblings nine
Who made my childhood truly great!
How blessed am I for being made
Handsome and healthy, fair and hale!
How blessed am I for gaining ken
And virtues, wisdom, fortitude!
How blessed am I for being reared
So well by parents dutiful!
How blessed am I for achievements
Quite praiseworthy in life on earth!
How blessed am I for having fared
So well in life in every field!
How blessed am I for talents, gifts
That most men cannot dream to have!
How blessed am I for miracles
That gave my life a newer lease!
How blessed am I for finding time
To thank and praise the Almighty!
How blessed am I for grace of God
That goads me on in heaven’s road!
How blessed am I for everything
God gave me amply in His time!
How blessed am I for love of God
That chose me to be Christian!
How blessed am I for hope and faith
That help me follow Jesus’ steps!
How blessed am I for poesy
That made my life stress-free, worthwhile!
How blessed am I for God’s with me
And I’m with Him in earthly life!
poem by John Celes
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All-Saints' Day (1867)
Blessed are they whose baby-souls are bright,
Whose brows are sealèd with the cross of light,
Whom God Himself has deign'd to robe in white—
Blessed are they!
Blessed are they who follow through the wild
His sacred footprints, as a little child;
Who strive to keep their garments undefiled—
Blessed are they!
Blessed are they who commune with the Christ,
Midst holy angels, at the Eucharist—
Who aye seek sunlight through the rain and mist—
Blessed are they!
Blessed are they—the strong in faith and grace—
Who humbly fill their own appointed place;
They who with steadfast patience run the race—
Blessed are they!
Blessed are they who suffer and endure—
They who through thorns and briars walk safe and sure;
Gold in the fire made beautiful and pure!—
Blessed are they!
Blessed are they on whom the angels wait,
To keep them facing the celestial gate,
To help them keep their vows inviolate—
Blessed are they!
Blessed are they to whom, at dead of night,—
In work, in prayer—though veiled from mortal sight,
The great King's messengers bring love and light—
Blessed are they!
Blessed are they whose labours only cease
When God decrees the quiet, sweet release;
Who lie down calmly in the sleep of peace—
Blessed are they!
Whose dust is angel-guarded, where the flowers
And soft moss cover it, in this earth of ours;
Whose souls are roaming in celestial bowers—
Blessed are they!
Blessed are they—our precious ones—who trod
A pathway for us o'er the rock-strewn sod.
How are they number'd with the saints of God!
Blessed are they!
Blessed are they, elected to sit down
With Christ, in that day of supreme renown,
When His own Bride shall wear her bridal crown—
Blessed are they!
poem by Ada Cambridge
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I'm fortunate that the books sell, but even more fortunate to live in Chatham, to be very happily married and to have, on the whole, a fairly clear conscience.
quote by Bernard Cornwell
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Love's perfection
Oh I am so fortunate.
In the past and in the present.
We fell in love, and loved
and it was total
and unexpected
and revelatory
and unique, of course
and consuming
and falling in love with the whole world too
and with life itself
and a compass
and the possibility of a map
and lacked nothing
and was everything.
And it was so perfect
that now
when I see your double around the town
who looks just like you
and was you
there is no need for nostalgia
or regrets
or how-it-might-have-been-if
or even self-congratulation
because it was so complete
and completed.
I am so fortunate.
I would like to think
(for we talk, easily, but never of the past)
that it is the same for you
for that way, completeness is doubled
and something, perhaps
given to the world.
We are so fortunate.
poem by Michael Shepherd
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Blessed Be Your Name - Hillsong
Blessed be Your name,
In the land that is plentiful.
Where Your streams of abundance flow,
Blessed be Your name.
Blessed be Your name,
When I'm found in the desert place.
When I walk through the wilderness,
Blessed be Your name.
Every blessing You pour out,
I'll turn back to praise.
When the darkness closes in,
Lord, still, I will say:
(Chorus)
Blessed be the name of the Lord,
Blessed be Your name.
Blessed be the name of the Lord,
Blessed be Your glorious name.
Blessed be Your name,
When the sun's shining down on me.
When the world's all as it should be,
Blessed be Your name.
Blessed be Your name,
On the road marked with suffering.
When there's pain in the offering,
Blessed be Your name.
Every blessing You pour out,
I'll turn back to praise.
When the darkness closes in,
Lord, still, I will say:
(Chorus) x 2
You give and take away,
You give and take away.
My heart will choose to say,
Lord, blessed be Your name. x 2
(Chorus) x 2
poem by Rebecca Ryan
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How Blessed I Am
HOW BLESSED I AM
How blessed I am
This long life-
These years in Yerushalayim-
My children-
My wife -
All the people who have
Through the years
Given me so much-
How blessed I am.
poem by Shalom Freedman
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Fortunate Son
Some folks are born made to wave the flag
Yeah, the red, white, and blue
When the band plays hail to the chief
Yeah, theyll point the cannon at you
It aint me, it aint me
Im no millionaires son
It aint me, it aint me
I aint no fortunate one
Some folks are born silver spoon in hand
Well, they help themselves, yeah
When the taxman comes to the door
House looks a like a rummage sale
It aint me, it aint me
I aint no millionaires son
It aint me, it aint me
I aint no fortunate one, no
Some folks inherit star spangled eyes
Yeah, when they send you down to war
Well, when you ask them how much you should give
Yeah, its always more, more, more
It aint me, it aint me
I aint no senators son
It aint me, it aint me
Im no fortunate one
It aint me, it aint me
I aint no military son
It aint me, it aint me
I aint no fortunate son
Take it away...
song performed by by U2
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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On the Infancy of Our Savior
Hail! blessed Virgin, full of heavenly grace,
Blest above all that sprang from human race,
Whose heaven-saluted womb brought forth in one
A blessed Savior and a blessed Son.
O what a ravishment 't had been to see
Thy little Savior perking on thy knee!
To see Him nuzzle in thy virgin breast,
His milk-white body all unclad, undressed;
To see thy busy fingers clothe and wrap
His spraddling limbs in thy indulgent lap;
To see His desperate eyes with childish grace
Smiling upon His smiling mother's face;
And when His forward strength began to bloom
To see Him diddle up and down the room.
O who would think so sweet a Babe as this
Should ere be slain by a false-hearted kiss?
Had I a rag, if sure Thy body wore it,
Pardon, sweet Babe, I think I should adore it;
Till then, O grant this boon, a boon far dearer:
The weed not being, I may adore the Wearer.
poem by Francis Quarles
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